Continued Identity Unveiled, Powers Unsheathed
by shiningbanana
Summary: This is the rest of the storyline I had written for Identity Unveiled, Powers Unsheathed. Some wanted an epilogue, and some wanted more, so here's the extra material. Refer to the original for the epilogue.
1. A Fight

**This is a continuation of Identity Unveiled, Powers Unsheathed for those who wanted it... otherwise read the epilogue, coming hopefully in a few days. **

-

They remained at Imladris for several days. Elizabette and Súláríl rode alone in the bright warm forests, enjoying the difference from Mirkwood.

_Did I do right?_ Elizabette asked Súláríl. _I do not know. _

_You did, I think,_ Súláríl replied reassuringly. _You have no reason to return to your own world, and you do not belong in Middle- Earth. Hopefully you will feel that you belong on Valinor. _

Elizabette was slightly relieved. _I could not go back,_ she said. _After seeing that anything is possible... And Legolas told me that my world hides the true identities of people. How do I know who is evil? I never trusted Matron, but I did not know that she was so horrible... or that she came from Middle- Earth. And how did she get here- or there? She must have had some method, yet if it was that easy why do not other people come here?_

Súláríl replied,_ Perhaps there is only one world after all, and there are different levels of consciousness. _

_No,_ Elizabette said decidedly, _Middle- Earth is a different world. I would know if it was the same. But I do not understand how the Lieutenant could have traveled... or indeed how Legolas and I got here. _

_Perhaps we will never know,_ Súláríl replied.

Unexpected and Unwelcome Visitors

A few days later they were again in the dim forest of Mirkwood. The elves had laid a fire with dry sticks of wood that had fallen from dying trees. Legolas had climbed a tree and was sitting on the uppermost branches, looking out over the treetops. The others sat in small groups around the fire.

Legolas jumped down lightly from the tree. His gaze strayed over the other elves, pausing when he noticed that Elizabette was not there. He saw her after a moment, though her blue dress blended with the shadows. She sat several yards away from the fire, alone. Her head was bowed and her shoulders stiff and tense. Legolas could not tell if she was crying.

"Elizabette?" he asked. "Are you all right?"

"Yes," she replied flatly without moving.

Legolas frowned slightly. "What is wrong?"

Elizabette did not reply.

Legolas lowered his voice. "Are you regretting your decision?"

Elizabette looked up. Legolas could not read her expression, and her eyes were downcast.

"Decision?" she asked blankly. "Oh. My decision to go to Valinor. I do not wish to speak of it right now."

Legolas frowned again. "What is wrong, Elizabette?"

She seemed not to hear him. She did not move but the elf sensed that she was listening intently.

Suddenly she stood, startling everyone. She stared to the west, her sharp eyes penetrating the oppressive dimness.

She smiled grimly. "Yes. They are coming."

Legolas looked in the same direction. He detected a slight movement, and as he watched he saw a small band of orcs, formidable, spear- carrying.

"Orcs...?" he said, but Elizabette cut him off. She turned to the other elves, most of whom were staring to the west.

"You will stay back," she said. She was not warning them, nor was she giving any sort of order. She was merely stating a fact.

Feláren, a female elf who had become friends with Elizabette, protested, "You cannot mean to fight them by yourself..."

A fire burned in her gray eyes. "I do not mean to fight them," she said. She did not elaborate.

She began to turn back to the west, but Legolas caught her eye and she stopped. Their gaze held.

After a long moment, Elizabette shook her head slightly. "No, Legolas," she said softly, "this I must do alone."

The other elves watched them curiously. They could hear Elizabette perfectly but none of them understood.

Elizabette glanced quickly to the west. The orcs were drawing nearer. The noise that they made as they ran was terrible to the delicate ears of the elves. The orcs seemed to enjoy crushing green things that were hardly in their path.

She glanced back at the elf. Legolas could not read her expression. Her gray eyes were bottomless and her face controlled. Nevertheless, he understood what she meant. She stared into his eyes until he nodded slightly. Then she turned swiftly away.

The orcs approached. Elizabette strode forward, each step altogether balanced and confident. She stopped as they ran up.

Legolas could see easily that they were perfectly ready to slice her head off. She drew her sword in one fluid motion. The white metal rang as it came free of the hardened leather sheath.

"You will leave," she said. Her passionate tones resonated clearly in the silent forest.

The orcs laughed. Legolas grimaced in hatred at their rough amusement. The gravelly jeering tones reverberated in his head.

Elizabette did not move but Legolas saw the delicate bones of her back stiffen almost imperceptibly. She waited for the laughter to die out.

The leader of the orcs spoke. He was the tallest and the grimiest, his rusted helm caked in age-old dirt. He said,

"These warrior elves let a weakling maiden defend them!" He paused as the others laughed. "What will they do when you are dead, maid?" He joined the mocking laughter.

Elizabette gritted her teeth but did not move. The leader suddenly thrust his heavy rusted broad- bladed sword at her. She parried the blow with a quick slash of her own sword. The leader's sword shook under the jolt and he drew it away hastily.

She did not give him a chance for surprise. She swung her sword at his head, then whirled it and quickly slashed at his arm. The feigned movement put him off guard and dark blood gushed from his hand.

He roared in anger and drove his sword toward her. She swung out of the way and spun quickly, managing to get behind him. She pointed the tip of her sword at his neck. Just in time he turned and blocked her sword.

Elizabette was concentrating on the leader and did not notice the other orcs approaching. She stabbed his other arm, this time the one that held the sword. He yelled, tones grating with hostility, and the other orcs closed in .

One managed to cut Elizabette's arm from the elbow to the wrist, but she drove him back with a quick jab of the sword. She whirled in fury at the others and pushed them back. They jumped out of the way quickly, seeing the force of her anger.

Elizabette stabbed her sword tip toward the leader. He leapt back, bringing up his heavy sword. She knocked it out of his hand with a quick twist of her own sword and stabbed at his shoulder.

She stepped back and surveyed the orcs. They had bunched into a small group again, with the injured leader at the front.

"This is the sword of Eärendil," she said, her voice cold and intense. "You will leave now or feel its bite." Without any warning she stepped forward and slashed at the leader. She cut his arm and it bled profusely.

Legolas could see that she would not kill any of the orcs purposely. It was not in her nature; he was not sure that she would be able to do it. Yet the orcs watched her with fear. She stood still, waiting for them to move.

Suddenly the leader jumped forward and stabbed again at her injured arm. She did not allow the dirty blade to touch her skin but thrust her blade toward his throat. He froze, blade stiff in his immobile hand.

"Leave, or you will die." She spoke softly, but her tone was grim and menacing and it carried to the elves, standing at the fire. "Leave and never return."

She drew the blade away from his neck and slashed again at his arm. With a sudden yell he turned and ran, the other orcs straggling after him. She stood and watched them for a moment, then turned and went back to the other elves. They stood by the fire, watching her.

Elizabette glanced down at the sword and wiped it off on the dry grass. She sheathed it smoothly and went to stand by the other elves.

"They will not return," she said.

Legolas looked at her. "Let me see your arm," he said.

She held it out. He examined the cut. "Does it hurt?" he asked.

"No."

Legolas frowned. "It should be bleeding."

Elizabette shrugged. "It does not matter," she said.

Legolas shook his head. "It does matter. If it does not hurt, and does not bleed, it could be poisoned."

One of the female elves came over. "I have some athelas," she said. "Have you need of it?"

Legolas considered for a moment. "Yes," he answered. "It would be well." He turned to Elizabette. "Sit down by the fire," he instructed.

She sighed and sat down. She was weary, but she had fought well and she knew it. She smiled slightly. She had managed to drive away the orcs without killing any of them.

Legolas came over and sat beside her. One of the other elves had set some water to boil in a pot over the fire. He tossed an athelas leaf into the warm water and a clean fragrance filled the air.

Legolas glanced at her. "Why did you do it?" he asked softly.

Elizabette looked up. "If you and the others had fought the orcs, some from both sides might be killed. I did not want that. The orcs might have killed me, but they did not."

Legolas frowned. "Was it worth that? We could have fought."

Elizabette shook her head. "I did not want anyone to die."

Legolas smiled at her. "You did well," he said. "I cannot see how you can use a sword so well without ever being taught."

Elizabette smiled. "Súláríl thinks that it is in my blood," she said, "though how he knows that I know not."

_I can sense it,_ Súláríl said into her mind. Elizabette shrugged.

Legolas looked into the pot. The water was boiling and the athelas was ready.

"I will do it, Legolas," offered a female elf, Anarel.

Legolas glanced at her. He nodded. "You are a better healer than I."

Anarel laughed lightly. "I do not think so," she replied, "but I have long studied the subject."

Legolas moved away while Anarel bathed Elizabette's cut gently with the water. It did not hurt, but Elizabette felt a rest creep over the arm. She felt that the athelas had helped in some way.

Legolas returned after a few minutes. "The course is clear," he said to the others. There are no other evil creatures near."

Elizabette looked up. "Did you sense the orcs coming?"

"No. I was weary and was not attentive. I will be on my guard now."

Anarel wrapped Elizabette's arm gently with soft strips of cloth. "You fought well, My Lady," she said as she stepped away.

"Thank you," Elizabette replied.

The other elves soon slipped back into their Quenya conversations, though Elizabette sensed a difference in their tones.

She remained seated on the ground, leaning against a strong old tree. After a few moments, Legolas came to sit nearby. "Did you know that the orcor _(orcs)_ were coming, Elizabette?" he asked.

"Yes." She said no more.

Legolas frowned. "How?" he asked. "I felt nothing."

"You said earlier that you were not paying attention," replied Elizabette.

Legolas shrugged his shoulders. "May be," he said, "but you are avoiding the question."

Elizabette sighed. "I sensed it," she said. "And I was also expecting them."

Legolas did not pursue the subject. "You should sleep," he said. "Does your arm feel better?"

Elizabette shook her head. "I cannot feel any difference," she answered. "It did not hurt before, and it does not now."

Legolas said nothing more but Elizabette sensed that he was worried. "Good night," she said to him, going to her pack.

"Mána lómë," he replied softly.

---

The next morning they began again to travel toward the palace. Legolas and Elizabette rode slightly behind the others. They rode silently, both communicating with their horses.

_Legolas, _Silrocca said,_ what is troubling you?_

Legolas did not reply for a moment. Then he answered,_ Elizabette's arm should bleed. I am worried that it is poisoned. _

_What can you do about it? Did the athelas not help?_

_I do not know, but I do not think that it did. Elizabette does not seem to care._

_Why not?_

_I do not know. _

_Perhaps she knows something that you do not._

_She knows many things that I do not._

_Ask her._

Legolas sighed and glanced at Elizabette. She had been playing with Súláríl's mane, but as he turned toward her she looked up.

"What is wrong?" she asked.

"Does your arm pain you?"

"No."

Legolas frowned. "Do you think that it is healing?"

"No." Elizabette glanced quickly down at her arm.

"I think that it may be poisoned."

Elizabette raised her eyebrows. "Would the athelas not take care of that?"

Legolas stared forward into the dim trees. "I do not know," he replied. "It should have." He glanced swiftly at Elizabette. She did not look at him.

She rested a hand on Súláríl's crest. His thick mane blew lightly in the breeze. He arched his neck and pranced, showing off.

Legolas laughed slightly. "You do not seem worried," he said.

Elizabette glanced around quickly before replying. "Well... Something grows on my mind. But let us not speak of that now." Súláríl nickered to Silrocca. He paced into a swift trot. Elizabette's curls bounced on her shoulders and her indigo cloak swept out behind her.

Silrocca matched their pace and Legolas tossed Elizabette a teasing grin. He was still able to sit a trot better than she.

Súláríl slipped up into a canter, hardly faster than the trot. Elizabette smiled as they passed the others.

After a few minutes they eased back down to a walk to allow the other elves to catch up. Súláríl stood stiffly.

After a moment, Elizabette asked, _Súláríl, is something amiss?_

The horse answered, _My left front leg is sore. I must be careful._

_Should I get down?_

_No. I can bear you for a time. _

Elizabette looked worried but she said nothing.

"Now you do look worried," Legolas said. "What is the matter?"

"Súláríl said that his leg is sore," she responded uneasily.

Legolas glanced down at the horse's feet. "Is it very painful?" he asked.

_It is not too bad. _

"He says that it is not... yet," Elizabette replied. "I hope that it is not my fault for asking him to canter."

Legolas frowned. "It should not be from that."

_Do you know why it is sore, Súláríl?_

_No. I did not notice it until we slowed. _

Elizabette jumped down from his back. She picked up his foot and examined it. There seemed to be nothing wrong. Legolas looked for a stone or a cut but he could not see anything either.

His eyebrows creased into a frown. "We should let him rest," he said. He called the others over and explained quickly. "Sera, Súláríl, írë matlmë," _(Rest, Súláríl, while we eat)_ he added to the horse.

Elizabette examined her arm. It did not bleed, nor did it pain her. Indeed she hardly noticed it at all, though she felt that it had not healed.

The elves lingered longer over the meal than usual to allow Súláríl more time to rest. Elizabette sat away from the others, near her horse.

_Does your leg feel better?_

_No. Not much._

_I should not ride,_ said Elizabette, worried.

He tore off a mouthful of dying grass but did not find it to his liking. _The grass dies quickly in the shade of the trees,_ he said to Elizabette. _I am surprised that there is any at all. _

She smiled slightly and held out a piece of her bread. He took it gratefully.

_It tastes better than dead grass,_ he offered playfully.

Elizabette grinned. _I should hope so,_ she replied.

When everyone was ready, Elizabette picked up Súláríl's foot again. "I cannot see anything that could be causing pain," she said to Anarel, who had come over to look.

"Does he know how it happened?"

"No."

Anarel looked carefully over the sole and up to the joint. "Perhaps he strained it," she suggested. "You should not ride him. You can ride with someone else."

Legolas came up behind them. "You can ride with me," he offered.

"Are you certain?" Elizabette asked quickly. "Will Silrocca mind?"

"No. She can carry both of us."

Elizabette looked dubiously at Silrocca. "She is quite tall," she said doubtfully.

Legolas smiled as Silrocca whinnied and said into his mind, _Did she not say the same of Súláríl? She rides him confidently now._

Legolas sprang onto her back. After a moment's hesitation, Elizabette patted Súláríl and followed suit. She sat sidesaddle, for she was wearing a dress of a blue color that matched that of her cloak. She found it strange to be sitting so far back on the horse.

"You can hold onto my waist," Legolas said. Elizabette slipped an arm around his waist.

Silrocca moved effortlessly into a trot. Elizabette could feel the power in her hindquarters. She found the trot exceptionally bouncy in the unusual position.

"Legolas! Slow down!" she called to him. He grinned over his shoulder.

"Frightened?" he called. Silrocca jumped into a full- speed gallop.

Elizabette's grip tightened on his waist. "Lego_las_! Slow_ down_!" Her voice was lost on the wind.

She felt herself begin to slip. The gallop was unseating; each stride she slipped farther back.

She thought that she would slip right off of Silrocca's back when Legolas put his hand back and caught hers. He pulled her forward again. Silrocca eased down into a rolling canter then to a walk. Elizabette tried to catch her breath.

Legolas looked over his shoulder at her frightened face. "It is hard to sit in the back, is it not?" he asked.

"I thought I was going to fall."

Legolas grinned. "You asked Súláríl to canter when I was on him," he said.

Elizabette raised her eyebrows. "You had less trouble," she responded, half teasingly. "You are a better rider than I."

Silrocca turned to face the elves who were beginning to catch up. Elizabette loosened her grip on Legolas' waist and pushed her hair out of her face. Silrocca stepped forward and she held on tightly again.

Legolas half turned. "Do you not trust me?" he asked.

Elizabette glanced into his eyes. He was not teasing. "Not on a horse," she replied.

Legolas' smile faded. "I did not mean to frighten you, Elizabette," he apologized.

"It is all right," she answered. "I guess."

The other elves began to approach. "Sometimes you two act like elflings," Duinral called to them. Elizabette smiled slightly.

---

That night Elizabette carefully unwrapped the bandage on her arm. She was dismayed to find that though it did not bleed, the cut was just as sharp and fresh as it had been the day before.

Anarel again applied the athelas water and wrapped the arm but Elizabette felt that it was in vain. She knew that there was some poison in the wound that would not allow it to heal.

She sat alone on the edge of the fire, much as she had just before the orcs came. Legolas joined her after speaking with the others for a time.

"Elizabette?" he asked softly. "Is anything the matter?"

Elizabette looked up at her friend. "No," she replied untruthfully.

Legolas could see that she did not mean it. "You can tell me," he said.

For an answer she stood and took his hand, leading him away from the fire and the others. They went just far enough that they could not see the other elves.

She looked up at him and he saw that her eyes, which he had looked upon in times of both joy and fear, were restless.

"Legolas," she said in answer to his question, "I feel that there is some poison in the cut on my arm that prevents it from healing. I cannot see why else it would not heal. The athelas should have cured it but it did not and that I also fail to see."

Legolas did not reply for a moment. When he did, he spoke softly so that the keen ears of the others might not hear.

"That is what I believed," he said. "I wondered why it was that you seemed not to care." He paused for a second and did not look at her. "I feel that you have always concealed your emotions. For what purpose I know not; nor do I know whether you were taught to do so or do so instinctively. I suspect the cause, though I do not know for certain." He glanced at her suddenly, and the glance was keen and sharp. "However, I deem that this could harm you; for if you hide something that is too large, it could break your strength."

Elizabette leaned back against a tree. "Maybe you know me better than anyone," she said, "except perhaps for Elrond, who has learned much through his farsight." She looked at him. "You are correct in saying that I have concealed my emotions, though this is through no device of my own." She sighed. "At the orphanage, no one liked me, for I was different. I hid my emotions from them, for if I had not they could have found ways to pain me. Perhaps it has become habit."

Legolas glanced at her bandaged arm. "What will you do then?" he asked.

Elizabette shook her head. "I know not," she replied. "Perhaps I will find a way of healing it."

She shivered suddenly for she had felt that something warm behind her was missing. Legolas reached for her hand. "Are you all right?" he asked, worried.

Elizabette glanced over her shoulder. "I am fine," she replied.

Legolas kissed her gently. "We should go back," he said.

Elizabette glanced around swiftly as they started back. When they reached the edge of the clearing where they had set up the camp, they stopped in surprise.

The clearing was empty.

There was little light because of the dense foliage, but Elizabette could easily see that there was nothing there.

She glanced at Legolas. His eyes searched the clearing. "Did we come the wrong way?" she asked.

He shook his head. "No. Look." He led her to the center of the space. Kneeling down, Elizabette saw the ashes from the fire. She could still feel the heat- the fire had not been out long.

Elizabette glanced around frantically. "Where has everyone gone? Where is Súláríl?"

Legolas did not reply. He was searching the perimeter of the space. Elizabette walked over to where Súláríl had stood when they had left. The space was empty.

_Súláríl?_ she shouted in her thoughts. She waited for a reply. There was none. Frightened, she reached out with her mind for his. She shouted again, _Súláríl!_

After a long agonizing moment, Súláríl said, _Elizabette?_

_Where are you?_

_I do not know. When you and Legolas walked away into the forest, the others continued to sit by the fire. Suddenly, we were plunged into darkness, and we are now somewhere far away. _

_Are you still in Mirkwood?_

_Yes. _

_Is everyone there? Silrocca? The packs?_

_Yes. _

_What-_ A hand descended on her shoulder. She suppressed a scream with difficulty and whirled around.

"Quiet. It's me," Legolas whispered. He glanced quickly around over his shoulder. "We are being watched."

Elizabette also glanced around. "I see nothing," she whispered back. She frowned. "How could they all have disappeared? Súláríl says that they are still in Mirkwood."

Legolas looked considerably relieved. "We will be able to find them, in that case," he said. "But we must first escape from here."

Suddenly Elizabette sensed rather than saw a movement on the far edge of the clearing. She did not need Legolas' hiss to know that danger was present.

"Spiders."

-

muahaha... cliffie. Not a particularly effective one though, as the next part is already posted:)


	2. An Arrow

Legolas fitted an arrow to his bow and shot with impossible accuracy. The approaching spider hissed angrily and clicked its pincers. Legolas shot another arrow and it slowly fell, legs waving as it died.

Elizabette and Legolas exchanged a quick glance before each turned to the fighting at hand. Elizabette drew her sword and walked evenly towards another of the giant arachnids.

The spider saw her coming and jumped forward. Its speed was amazing; Elizabette barely had time to jump out of the way. She aimed a sword- stroke at it but only succeeded in grazing one of its legs and angering it.

Elizabette stood still for a moment, considering the best way to fight. The spiders watched her warily, unsure of her next move. Suddenly she slashed at the body of one. She managed to bring it down.

She did not stop to watch it fall. Another spider had crept up as she battled with the first and she barely managed to jump away. Across the clearing Legolas fought with his knife; the spiders were too fast for arrows.

Elizabette stabbed it sharply near the eyes, then with another brutal stab she killed it. Just in time she whirled to face another behind her.

She was surrounded by an inescapable thicket of hairy black legs. She stabbed at some; but as their owners hissed with anger and menace, a cruel pain stabbed at her arm and she cried out in agony.

Instead of subduing her as intended, the spider's attack made her angrier. The bright blade of her sword flashed in the dim light as she hacked and stabbed at her enemies.

Finally all were driven off or killed. The clearing was littered with death but Elizabette ignored it as she checked first her pocket for her necklace, then her arm.

Legolas appeared behind her. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"A spider tried to poison me," she replied with disgust.

Legolas hissed between his teeth. "Let me see," he said.

She held out her arm. Even in the dimness he could see; and what he saw relieved him. "There is no poison," he said. "It is only a small cut."

Elizabette smiled slightly. "That is good," she said. "Are you injured?"

"No," Legolas replied. He glanced around the clearing. "There are few groups of spiders now, and those that there are avoid light and warmth. It is late," he added. "I do not care to sleep here, but I do not know if we can safely go somewhere else."

Elizabette looked around. The dirty clearing disgusted her. "There must be another clearing," she said. Looking quickly around, she saw nothing that had been left by the other elves.

Legolas shrugged and led the way out of the clearing. "We may as well look," he said.

They headed in the direction of the palace, for as Legolas said there was no reason to make the journey longer. After an hour or so they came to a small clearing that seemed safe to both of them.

They sat on the grass quietly, watching for danger and resting from their labors. After a moment Legolas heard a short sob from Elizabette.

"What is wrong?" he asked swiftly, turning toward her.

She was silent for a moment, then she replied shakily, "Legolas, look where we are. We are somewhere in Mirkwood, separated from the others, the provisions, the water, and our packs, and we have no means of reaching the palace. What can we do now?"

Legolas pulled her into his arms. "We will find a way to reach the palace," he said. "We must."

He held her gently until her sobs abated. "Things will be all right," he whispered, aware of the watchful forest. "We will find a way."

"Should we watch?" Elizabette asked later. "After the surprise attack..."

Legolas did not reply for a moment. "I do not see the need," he said. "After that we will sleep lightly, for our minds will be on guard. We will wake with any motion."

"That is good then," said Elizabette. She wrapped herself in her indigo cloak and curled up on a patch of short dry grass.

Legolas lay down near her. He slipped into sleep, blue eyes open in the darkness.

---

The chill morning light crept into the clearing. Legolas sat up and glanced around quickly, reaching for his weapons to assure himself that they were still there. Elizabette stood a few feet away, braiding her honey- brown hair. A few wispy curls escaped and blew lightly in the sluggish early-morning breeze.

She fastened the braid with a blue ribbon and turned, hearing him stir. She smiled. "There are no signs of danger," she said. She glanced around the clearing. "But we have no food or water."

"Food is not a problem," Legolas replied, rising from the dirty grass with a grimace. "Water, however, may be. Unfortunately, we have no way of finding the others, except for a limited description from the horses."

Elizabette frowned. "Well," she said, "This incident rather reminds me of a scene in the book The Hobbit written also by J.R.R. Tolkien. It was about Bilbo Baggins and the finding of the ring."

Legolas glanced at her, and she could feel the intensity of his interest. "Go on," he said.

"Bilbo and the dwarves that he traveled with came to Mirkwood. By this time they had little food and though they had been strictly directed to remain on the path, they left it to follow a light."

She saw understanding dawn on Legolas' fair face.

"As they approached they saw that the light was firelight, and that there were many Wood-elves eating merrily. They stepped into the circle cast by the lights and everything disappeared."

Legolas nodded. "I was there," he said. "As soon as the hobbits came near the light, we moved our feast to another place. It happened three times that night."

"Could this have not been similar? How did you transport the feast?"

"By the power of our people."

Elizabette shrugged. "Perhaps that is what they did last night."

Legolas considered for a moment. "Perhaps," he replied, "though from Silrocca's reaction I think that it was unexpected."

Elizabette brought Súláríl's words back to mind. "You may be right," she agreed. "Although that does not help us much. Where should we go?"

Legolas was silent. He turned away, scanning the clearing again. _Silrocca?_ he asked. _Have you no idea where you are?_

_None._

_Do you know how you were transported?_

_No. Everything dimmed, and we were suddenly here. _

_Is everyone there? No one is lost?_

_Everyone is here_, Silrocca replied.

_Is my pack there? Is Elizabette's?_

_I think so. _

Legolas withdrew from the connection and turned to see Elizabette watching him with a strange expression on her face. Something told him that he would not like what she would say.

"Legolas," she said reluctantly after a moment, "can I speak with Silrocca?"

He turned away abruptly and did not reply. Elizabette waited patiently until he turned back to her.

"I suppose so," he said. She saw clearly the effort that it cost him.

She smiled gratefully. "Thank you," she said. In her thoughts, she called, _Silrocca?_

_Yes, Elizabette?_

_Legolas gave me permission to contact you._

_Yes. What did you wish to know?_

_Do you know where in Mirkwood you are?_

_Not precisely; we were transported too quickly to track our course. _

_Are you farther south than we were?_

_No, I believe that we are closer to the palace. _

_Have you any idea where the other elves mean to go?_

_Back to the palace. They do not know where you are. _

_Thank you,_ Elizabette said, withdrawing. She called next, _Súláríl?_

_Yes._

_How far are you from the palace?_

_A day's journey, perhaps. _

_Legolas and I are still at the camp. We are about three day's journey to the palace, on horseback. It will take long to walk. _

_What will you do?_

_I do not know. _

_Can Silrocca and I come to you?_

_I will ask Legolas what he thinks._

She withdrew completely and looked up to see Legolas watching her. "What did she say?" he asked.

"She thinks that they are nearer the palace than we are. So does Súláríl; he guessed that they have a day's journey to the palace, perhaps two."

"What should we do?"

"Walk, I suppose."

Legolas sighed. "It will be a long journey, and we cannot carry water."

Elizabette nodded. "That will be the greatest problem," she replied. "Is there a stream nearby?"

"There is, or used to be."

They set out in the direction of the palace. By midmorning they reached the stream. The water was clear and cool, and they drank deeply before crossing and continuing. At midday, Legolas stopped suddenly, looking pleased.

He jumped lightly up into the boughs of a large tree and smiled. "This is a dowaril tree," he said. "We can eat the nuts." He climbed down after a moment, holding a handful of small nuts rather like walnuts.

When they had broken the shells, Elizabette tasted one. She found the taste rich and buttery and quite pleasant. They ate several each and put the others in the pockets of their cloaks.

---

That night they lit a small fire after checking the area carefully. Legolas had had his flints in the pocket of his cloak when the others had disappeared.

After a brief communication with Silrocca, Legolas said, "It appears that the others know that we are coming. Silrocca told several of the other horses, who then passed it on to the elves."

"What will they do?"

"That I know not."

They were silent for a while, enjoying the water from a nearby stream and the dowaril nuts and the fresh meat of a squirrel that they had roasted. Later the forest was dim and their fire was only bright thing for leagues. No moonlight filtered through the shrouded trees and all was still.

---

Elizabette unbraided her hair and shook it out. She started suddenly as a misty darkness descended upon the camp.

Elizabette clutched at Legolas. He wrapped his arms around her. "It is happening," she whispered into his shoulder.

"It is," he replied.

After a few seconds the mist dissolved and they found themselves in almost complete darkness. They glanced around, looking for any sign of the clearing or the path. After a moment Legolas noticed a faint glow, slightly north of them.

He led the way. Elizabette followed, looking around warily. As they neared the glow, Elizabette heard a familiar and much loved voice in her head as she saw its owner.

_Elizabette?_

_Súláríl! _

_How did you get here?_

_We were transported much as you were. The darkness descended and we appeared here._

Legolas caught her arm as they neared the clearing. The other elves were all there, speaking in Quenya. Silrocca and Súláríl stood by the edge of the trees, watching them.

He scanned the clearing for any signs of danger, then released Elizabette and stepped forward.

The elves' conversations broke off abruptly as they turned to Legolas. Then Duinral said,

"Legolas! Heri Elénwen! Manen nar tye? Manen poltye tulsímen?" _(Legolas! Lady Elénwen! How are you? How did you come here?)_

Legolas replied, "Aiya ilya. Ettulmë ve poltye._" (Hail all. We came as you did.) _

Elizabette was able to translate the greetings as Legolas had taught her some of the language, and, remembering faint things from her early years, she had picked it up quickly. Yet most of her attention was centered on Súláríl.

He stood still, resting his foreleg. _Is your leg still sore?_ she asked him anxiously.

_It is worse._

_What is the cause?_

_No one knows._

Elizabette picked the foot up and again examined it. She could find no sign of the lameness. She turned back to the others as Legolas said her name.

Anarel gave her bread and dried fruit. Elizabette asked her why she believed that Súláríl was lame.

"I do not know for certain, My Lady," Anarel replied, "but I suspect that he stepped wrong and stretched the joint wrongly. This might cause the lameness. It has worsened during the journey today, though he was unburdened.

After she had eaten Elizabette boiled an _olva envinya_ leaf in water and bathed Súláríl's foot.

_It does feel better, _ he remarked as she finished.

_Does it really?_

_Yes. Perhaps it will heal._

_Do not strain it. I will not ride you until it is completely healed. _

---

"Where is Elizabette?" Legolas asked, scanning the clearing.

It was morning. Sparse light filtered through the veiled trees, cold and chill with the morning dampness. The rich decayed scent of the earth floated on the heavy cool air.

Legolas glanced the clearing again. He had been to the stream to wash. She had been there when he had left.

Duinral and his friend Ryncäl looked up. Ryncäl shrugged. "Lady Elénwen? We have not seen her," he answered in the Common Speech.

Legolas frowned. "Where could she have gone?" he wondered.

Feláren, the elf who had become friends with Elizabette, looked at him. "She may have gone to the stream," she suggested.

Legolas shook his head. "I was just there," he replied uneasily, gaze skimming the clearing yet again.

Suddenly the branches over his head rustled slightly and Elizabette dropped to the ground beside him, landing easily on her toes.

"Worried about me?" she asked lightly.

Legolas smiled slightly. "What were you doing in the trees?" he asked.

"I wanted to see the light and feel the breeze," she replied. She turned away to check Súláríl's foot.

_Is it better? _ she asked the horse.

_Better than yesterday. It has not changed since last evening. _

_I will not ride,_ Elizabette said. _I do not wish to make it worse again. _She wrapped the foot in fresh bandages and combed her fingers through his mane, straightening the thick hairs.

Legolas and Silrocca came over to them. Silrocca nickered quietly. Legolas asked, "How is his foot?"

Elizabette picked it up. "It seems to be better," she replied, "but it may become worse."

"What did you do to heal it?"

"I soaked it in the water from the _olva envinya_ leaves," she replied, releasing Súláríl's foot. Silrocca nudged Legolas' shoulder and he jumped lightly onto her back.

"Will you ride with us?" he asked Elizabette.

She shrugged. "I suppose so." She leapt easily up behind him. Súláríl came over to her.

_Will you be able to keep up?_

_I think so. My foot is better than yesterday. _

_That is well, for we wish to reach the palace today. I will be happy to see the light, for the trees are thinner there. _

_Is your arm healing?_

_No._

She glanced down at the bandages. It still did not bleed, and it did not heal. She hoped fervently that there was something at the palace that could heal the cut.

---

Elizabette was stiff from riding in the unnatural position when they stopped for the midday meal. She jumped down from Silrocca's back with relief and busied herself checking Súláríl's foot.

It seemed no better or worse. She felt that the walking had done no good for him, though it had not made the foot worse. _When we reach the palace you can rest,_ she told him.

She spoke with Feláren, her friend, during the meal. Feláren had at first kept away from Elizabette, but they had become good friends during their stay in Gondor. Feláren was the only elf besides Legolas who did not call Elizabette 'My Lady'. At first she had called her Elénwen, but Elizabette had explained the reason that she had taken that name and Feláren began to call her by her true name.

Feláren was interested to hear that the _olva envinya_ water had helped Súláríl's foot. "Normally we crush it and place it on the wounds," she told Elizabette. "However, I see that you could not do this if you cannot find a wound."

Elizabette nodded. "I was not certain that it would help," she said, "though I did not believe that it would hurt."

Feláren smiled. "I was present when Súláríl was born," she said. "Even then he was spirited and would let no one near him. He is not much like his mother."

Elizabette nodded. "Not in personality or appearance," she replied, "except for his head. Silrocca is stronger than he is."

"That is probably partly because he has spent most of his first two years of life in his stall," Feláren replied.

Elizabette agreed. "I hope that his foot will heal," she said. "It is bad that we cannot find the source of the lameness."

"He will be all right, Elizabette," Feláren said reassuringly. "He is already healing."

"I hope so."

Feláren glanced at her face and changed the subject. "Would you like to ride with me this afternoon?" she asked. "Silrocca seems rather weary."

Elizabette nodded gratefully. "I would, Feláren," she replied with a smile. "Hantalë," she added in Quenya.

Feláren smiled. "Tya alassë." _(To please you.)_

Legolas smiled when Elizabette told him that she would ride with Feláren. He was pleased that Elizabette was finally becoming friends with some of the other elves.

They reached the palace late that afternoon. A shaft of golden autumn sunlight illuminated Súláríl's stall. Elizabette brushed his coat carefully and rewrapped his foot. Then she returned to the palace.

-

Epilogue thingy next...


End file.
